


Lemons

by AvantGardener



Category: Melodrama - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14188455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvantGardener/pseuds/AvantGardener
Summary: play. Teen girls at a private school hold a pageant trying to find the "perfect" boy.





	Lemons

LEMONS by AvantGardener228 and orosea

Penelope: Ok, but Tom was really trying, and you’re kind of a hoe.

(The lights shift up, on three girls, with slurpees, on a bench in the park. SLOANE is on the far left, texting, and chewing on the straw of her slurpee. PHOEBE and PENELOPE are engaged in an intense conversation

Phoebe: That’s probably true. He still should have went a little rougher. He just kept crying, and I had to tell him to stop crying. He had snot running down his face, and I had to hold his long ass hair up while he was blowing chunks.

Penelope: He was growing his hair out for Locks-of-Love you jerk. Since you spend your time with douchebags, figured you’d want a reprieve.

Phoebe: Well considering I once told Jenna Lewis she smells like hot dog water and piss in gym, Do I seem like Julie Andrews?

( SLOANE laughs. PHOEBE and PENELOPE look up, but SLOANE is staring at her phone.)

Phoebe: Huh. She laughed.

Penelope: Not at you, she’s looking at her phone.

Phoebe: Can’t you just let me think I’m funny?

Sloane: You said something about Julie Andrews?

Phoebe: Well it’s not a no, and since my existential crisis is crushing me, I’ll take the confidence boost

Penelope: Existential is a big word for someone who thought they could charge their phone with a microwave

Phoebe: Ok, you are being kind of a jerk, and I don’t know what you want me to say, the videos were very compelling. So sorry that I didn’t like your friend, Penelope. They all seem very… boring. 

Penelope: Congratulations then, you’ve run the well dry. All the good guys are now gone.

Sloane: You could always just become a nun.

Phoebe: I don’t appreciate your tone. Are you implying I’m anything less than saintly?

Penelope: Hellish, actually.

Phoebe: Let’s just keep on attacking Phoebe! Like she doesn’t have feelings! What’s the problem if I don’t like spooning and watching pixar movies?

Penelope: You really should try a little harder to be friendlier. Like, I get it, you’re on a quest to find this man, but maybe you should look a little less for Chris Hemsworth, and a little more for a nice guy.

Phoebe: Chris Hemsworth is a nice guy! What makes you the authority on nice guys?

Penelope: Just trying to give advice. Since one of us can maintain healthy relationships I figured you could use it. 

Phoebe: What relationships have you maintained? How do I even know you like guys?

Penelope: I like men! I just… am uncomfortable with the idea of… you know... doing it. I can maintain a relationship just fine. 

Phoebe: Prove it.

Penelope: How do you propose I do that, Thotticus Prime?

Phoebe: Simple. We interview boys, and the both of us give our ideal suitors to be presented. I can prove that I can easily find a nice guy and you can prove that you can actually find a guy. 

Sloane: The three of us.

Phoebe: Three of us?

Sloane: Yeah. I’m included too. 

Penelope: Sloane, you are literally a lesbian. Without even considering aptitude, why would you even want to find the perfect man?

Sloane: Are you saying that I can’t participate because I am a lesbian? That’s homophobic.

Penelope: Sloane, you have the organizational skills of a five year old. You were three days late to my birthday party with a half empty beer keg and Salsa flavored corn nuts, but you know me, the raging homophobe.

Sloane: Fair point, but the keg was at least 2/3rds full though.

Penelope: Fine! We are ignoring important questions though. Why would boys even want to be interviewed at all?

Sloane: We could make it a competition, offer a prize. 

Phoebe: That's not a bad idea, actually. Men like thinking they’re going to win something. 

Penelope: Doesn't... Everyone… Like winning things?

Phoebe: The ever-fair Penelope strikes again. I was just kidding. 

Penelope: I’m just trying to be inclusive.

Phoebe: It's simple. We pose a big contest, advertise like crazy and offer a big prize.

Penelope: What’s the prize?

Phoebe: You, Virgin Mary, who else?

Sloane: Was Mary really sought after because she was virgin? Or like… was it because she was like a freak roadside attraction. 

Penelope: Yeah, what she sa- Wait, what the hell, Sloane?

Sloane: Well, you’re not a roadside attraction but like, who cares if you’re a virgin.

Penelope: Oh my god! We are not offering my… purity as a prize!

Phoebe: (mock voice) Oh. My. God. How could we even? Her purity? The one thing she can never replace? How will she ever find value in her character again? 

Penelope: For someone who wouldn’t stop complaining about being attacked, I sense hypocrisy. 

Phoebe: Well, I sense that you’re avoiding the topic at hand. 

Penelope: I’m not doing it. I’m not being auctioned off to some gross guy with–with...sausage fingers. 

Phoebe: One, it’s not an auction. Two, if you truly believe your perfect man would win, it shouldn't be an issue. 

Sloane: I personally do not have an issue with sausage fingers. 

Phoebe: You seem very insecure about this. Are you sure that you can even do this?

Penelope: Fine. I’ll do it.

Phoebe: I thought you were going to win? Hm, interesting for someone who was so confident about her taste in men earlier.

Penelope: You know what? You’re on Phoebe. If you win, I’ll date whatever guy you’ve chosen. No questions. But if I win, you have to go out with Tom again and admit how utterly wrong you are. 

Phoebe: Deal. 

(They exit stage left, as HARRY and BILL come on stage right. BILL is clearly upset, and HARRY is desperately trying to cheer him up. )

Harry: You need to get over Jenna. 

(BILL just sobs harder into his bag of salsa flavored corn nuts.)

Harry: I know that you really liked her but… this is like the third time she’s dumped you?

Bill: Second! I told you, she said she need space the first time, and the second time we were drunk and outside of a taco bell at 4am so it didn’t count because at that point, what even is reality?

Harry: She wasn’t drunk that night, it was just you buddy. You came home sobbing and covered in Baja Blast. 

(BILL goes back to being a whiny little bitch.)

Harry: Jesus, dude. 

(HARRY is very aware of how terrible this pun is.)

Bill: *unintelligible crying speak*

Harry: Gross. 

(HARRY awkwardly pats BILL on the back. While BILL continues to cry, HARRY notices the poster on the wall. He looks at it, and snatches it off the wall)

Harry: Look at this!

Bill: Did you just take that off the wall? Outside of these thirty year old locker rooms? 

Harry: What? It’s auditions for the best bachelor in school. And other than myself, you definitely qualify as a… very eligible bachelor. (I would just like to note that he staring at the bag of corn nuts with complete disgust.)

Bill: Are you sure?

Harry: The prize is a date with the elusive Penelope. I’m talking about getting you a girl you actually deserve. 

Bill: What if I don’t want a new girl? I still miss the old one.

Harry: Well forget her. You need to stop being so gay. Be a man, screw someone like Easy Phoebe and move on. 

Bill: Leave me alone.

Harry: Bro, you have been whining and bawling this whole week, about some girl who isn’t even that special. Jenna Lewis is like Meryl Streep trapped inside the body Megan Fox. She even owns a toy poodle. 

Bill: I always thought Coco was adorable.

Harry: C’mon, just get another girl. You couldn’t be more gay unless you told me you regularly dream about 1997 Leonardo Dicaprio.. which by the way, I get, no homo but DiCaprio’s got eyes a dude can get lost in.

(HARRY realizes he is caught in his fantasy)

Harry: Not that I… think about that or anything. 

Bill: Sure man.

Harry: Just do it dude. It won’t hurt anyone. What’s the worst that could happen?

Bill: I could go on stage and and they ask, theoretically of course, “What’s your favorite movie?” Which would obviously make me think of Tangled immediately and then, by extension, I would think of the first time Jenna said ‘I love you.’ As the lanterns floated above Eugene and Rapunzel in the boat. Then I would start crying, the judges would ask me what’s wrong and then I would cry harder because the love of my life has passed me by just like when Eugene left Rapunzel and her heart was broken, JUST LIKE MINE. 

Harry: Or, and hear me out here, you could win a date with a nice girl like Penelope. 

Bill: I… guess. But those are the only two options.

(The lights change and the curtains open to reveal the interview area. The three girls are set up on a platform)

Sloane: I can’t believe I skipped lunch to help organize this. Can one of the questions be “How well can you cook a homemade meal?” 

Phoebe: No, Sloane, these boys are supposed to be looking like a whole snack not making one. 

Sloane: That is quite possibly the worst thing you have ever said to me. Besides what’s the harm in a man that cooks? I thought—

Penelope: Sloane, Phoebe, no. This is going to be serious, my whole reputation is on the line. 

Sloane: Oh right, your purity. Penelope, I love you, but don’t always overthink everything.

Phoebe: She has a point. Nobody said this had to be a Alfred Hitchcock movie. AKA, boring. 

Penelope: Well pardon me, but usually interviews are kind of professional, and I, surprisingly, kinda want this to go well. And I like Hitchcock.

Phoebe: I thought you said the idea was “underprepared?” Why the optimism all of a sudden? 

Penelope: I slept on it. I mean this is kind of exciting! I know I didn’t want to, but I want to see what the best boy here looks like, or talks like, or anything really. I’m intrigued.

Sloane: You are weird as hell. It’s a boy, not a science experiment.

Phoebe: Shut up Sloane. Where was your moral compass when you told Jeremy Scott you were a lesbian, in front of the entire school, when he made an elaborate promposal to “DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ in Love”? It’s good that she’s excited about boys. 

Sloane: Why is it a problem to come out of the closet? And didn’t you suck some dude’s toes?

Penelope: Phoebe! I know I call you gross a majority of the time but I have never meant it more than I do right now. 

Phoebe: You act like you’ve never been curious about sucking toes. 

Penelope: Phoebe, this is grounds for an intervention.

Phoebe: Only God can judge me. 

Sloane: Well, she is the Virgin Mary. I say it’s close enough. 

Phoebe: THIS ISN’T ABOUT ME! Can we get back to what we are doing? Let’s just bring out the first guy. 

(Awkward silence ensues. Both look at each other awkwardly, as time passes.)

Phoebe: So which of us is gonna get him?

Penelope: What do you mean? 

Phoebe: One of us has to go get him. We’re literally the only people who are organizing this event. 

Sloane: I thought we were gonna have a freshman do all the work?

Phoebe: Sloane, what freshman would ever agree to work on something with your name on it?

Penelope: Fair point. But then, your name is also on the poster Phoebe.

Phoebe: I’m sorry not all of us can live up to your honor roll standards. 

Penelope: Whatever. Just for that, you can you go and get the first boy. 

Phoebe: Why do I have to do it?

Sloane: Because Penelope can’t be tainted before the pageant ends.

Phoebe: Why don’t you go get him?

Sloane: Because I don’t want to either, and you're practically an animal. So go fetch.

(Phoebe is visibly hurt by this comment, but stands up, and goes to get the guy.)

Penelope: Kind of harsh, Sloane. 

Sloane: Sure, but is it a lie?

Penelope: Wait, what?

Sloane: I said she’s practically an animal. No basic hygiene and she only cares about procreating at any chance. Besides she doesn’t care if anyone lets her know, so I do. Frequently. 

Penelope: Are you for real right now? 

Sloane: Oh god, save it, Saint Penelope. I won’t listen to you SJW preach to me about her “rights to her body.” 

Penelope: Sloane, you can’t just say things like that. I know you think she doesn’t care, but Phoebe’s not a bad person because she sleeps around. She might be a bad person for being self absorbed, and not being interested in anyone’s feelings, but her sex life isn’t a flaw. It’s just… a hobby?

Sloane: Great sermon. Maybe I’d believe it if you actually acted that way in real life, but you’re just as mean to her as I am.

Penelope: You just called her an animal. How does anything I’ve ever said compare to that?

Sloane: Hello? Isn’t this the same Penelope that called her a bitch for being rude to Jenna Lewis and said she only hung around with douchebags?

Penelope: That was a joke! It didn’t mean anything. 

Sloane: And yet, they both still come out sounding pretty similar don’t they?

Penelope: So what? Phoebe jokes around exactly like that with me. 

Sloane: So what gives you the right to police what I say?

 

Phoebe: So.. This is… Egbert?

(A man walks in, wearing a Sword Art Online shirt, with greasy ponytail, and a neon green backpack with naruto keychains.)

Edgar: It’s Edgar, it’s a family name from when we were nobles in Scotland but I prefer Nostradamus.

Sloane: Oh my god. 

Edgar: May I take a seat? I’ve typed out a resume filled with my favorite interests, such as which anime osts are my favorite and why I think Gurren Lagann is the best anime ever made. (He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a stapled set of paper.)

Penelope: Oh my god. 

Phoebe: Please do (She is grinning viciously) So, Edgar? I take it you’ve come here to win a date with Penelope? No wait, joust for her hand in courtship? (She gives him a thumbs up, and then siddles back into to the seat she was previously in, all the while smiling back at a glaring Penelope and a Sloane trying really hard not to laugh)

Edgar: Oh yes, I’ve admired your beauty from across the distance of classrooms and hallways, forever thinking to myself that you are a beautiful waifu out of my reach. I now know how Kirito must have felt when he first saw Asuna. 

Penelope: How…. Romantic?

Phoebe: That means you have a chance! Keep going. 

Sloane: Phoebe, where did you find this guy? 

Phoebe: What is your ideal date?

Edgar: I’m glad you asked! I have prepared another, separate resume, specifically for this occasion. (He reaches into the bookbag again for another set of stapled set up paper.)

Penelope: (Aside) Phoebe!

Edgar: I would take out my first edition box set of Miyazaki movies, and we’d snuggle up on the couch and watch Howl’s Moving Castle, subbed not dubbed, and you would see my charms right then and there, just like Sophie was intrigued by Howl’s mysterious aura, you would be drawn to me—

Penelope: Oh man, I hate to stop you right there, but I’m gonna stop you right there. Have a nice day, don’t let the door hit you on the way out, sayonara. 

Edgar: But wait, my- (He scrambles to hand them three more stapled sets of paper.) 

Penelope: If you say one more word in japanese or hand me another resume, I will literally call your mom right now and let her know that you visit HentaiHaven every night on the family computer. 

Edgar: You wouldn’t. 

Penelope: Get out!

(EDGAR sulks out, while SLOANE and PHOEBE are laughing hysterically)

Penelope: Oh very funny. What an amazing prospect you’ve selected for our first bachelor. 

Phoebe: Come on, you know it was funny.

Sloane: Yeah. Funny in the way that he’s gonna unironically threaten to chidori her if she refuses to go out with him.

Penelope: Is this some kind of twisted payback for Tom? Kind of petty. 

Phoebe: Of course this was payback. You keep setting me up with lame guys that have mommy issues, all they want to do is cry into some girl’s arms after a long day. 

Penelope: Wow. You truly are devoid of all emotion, Phoebe. I’m sorry for trying to find you a nice, respectable guy for you to talk to. 

Phoebe: Oh, no need, I apologize Princess Penelope. Not all of us need to leech on the attention of those around us. I don’t need some “nice guy” to feel good about myself. 

Sloane: God. What is this? Manic Pixie Dream Girl in one corner and Snow White in the other? Stop arguing about boys and grow up. 

Penelope: Seriously Sloane, get off your high horse. Just because you’re not capable of mustering enough caring to give a shit, doesn’t mean you criticize everybody else for theirs. 

Phoebe: Penelope! What the hell is your problem? No one will want to be with you if you can’t stop being a giant bitch. You’ll end up in some mediocre marriage where your husband doesn’t even find you interesting enough to hide the fact he’s cheating on you. Oh wait, I forget, you’re the cheater.

(PENELOPE steps back, brings her hands to her eyes, and runs offstage. PHOEBE rolls her eyes as SLOANE looks after her and then moves towards PHOEBE defensively.)

Sloane: God Phoebe, you made her cry. 

Phoebe: Why are you upset? She insulted us first. 

Sloane: I didn’t need your help, Phoebe. I can take care of myself, you can worry about the endless array of boys waiting for their chance with easy Phoebe. 

(SLOANE walks offstage, as PHOEBE is left alone onstage. HARRY walks on stage just as SLOANE departs, and moves towards a saddened PHOEBE.)

Harry: Aren’t… the interviews today?

Phoebe: Well, they were. Cancelled now, I guess.

Harry: That sucks. I was hoping to impress Penelope with my dashing wit. 

Phoebe: Bit late for that. She’s in the bathroom bawling right now. 

Harry: What? 

Phoebe: Something about the first guy and his startling obsession with, well… cartoons. Better luck next time, stud.

Harry: Man. That’s a shame.

Phoebe: It is. You look like you had promise.

Harry: You think so?

Phoebe: Well, look at you. Handsome. Well-Mannered. Not going to tie me up in a basement and make me watch cartoons with him. I think. Any other potential baggage aside, you’re the the all american boy. A real Clark Kent. 

Harry: I’m more than just a Clark Kent. I consider myself more of a… Superman. 

Phoebe: (Taken aback, if only for a second, at his stupidity.) If you’re so super, why be here at all? Certainly you’d’ve found your Lois Lane by now?

Harry: Well, Lois is a little bland. I’ve always had a bit of thing for redheads. You seem like Starfire. 

Phoebe: Now I don’t know much about comics but I recall Starfire being very intimate with Robin. Now that doesn’t line up, Superman. 

Harry: Ah well, now I don’t know much about you, but somehow I think that you don’t care much for rules, let alone comics. 

Phoebe: You’d be correct. Although… I think that you could get to know me a little better. 

Harry: Cryptic. I’m listening. 

Phoebe: Let’s say Robin usually takes Starfire out at the Red Lobster on Main, she wouldn’t quite mind if Superman showed up instead. 

Harry: Wait. Robin… is not real right?

Phoebe: No he’s not real. 

Harry: But you said Robin? That implies he’s real. 

Phoebe: No, he’s completely metaphorical. 

Harry: Metaphorical as in real? Like you’re not cheating on someone right? 

Phoebe: Jesus. Robin is—

Harry: Because one of my friends recently got cheated on and I don’t think I could handle that kind of emotional distre—

Phoebe: God. Robin and Superman aren’t real. Just meet me there around 7. 

(Lights fade off of PHOEBE, and transfer onto SLOANE, who is comforting a crying PENELOPE in the bathroom stall.)

Penelope: Can you believe she said that me?

Sloane: Yeah. It’s Phoebe. What’s new.

Penelope: I was just trying to help. She always steps all over me. 

Sloane: Seriously Penelope? You said she had no feelings. “Devoid of emotion” if I remember correctly. 

Penelope: So? I didn’t do anything wrong. She rejected my help and called me a boring virgin. She lashed out for no reason. 

Sloane: You do the same thing every other day. 

Penelope: I am never mean to her without a reason. She’s the one that pushes everyone away and can’t control herself. 

Sloane: Penelope are you serious? You take everything that she says as some kind of grand insult. You’re so defensive about everything.

Penelope: Are you saying I just ignore it when she insults me? Treats me like some naive little kid?

Sloane: My point is… god what was is it they say in elementary school? Treat her how you want to be treated. It’s like, the golden rule or some shit.

Penelope: (smiling through tears.) You know, you don’t have to be so crude. (stops, and ponders briefly before speaking.) I’m not boring right? I mean I know I am not some… cool girl like Phoebe. I just don’t wanna be…

Sloane: A suburbanite? Wine mom? Susan from the PTA? 

Penelope: I guess?

Sloane: I mean, if you want something different for yourself then it’s gonna happen. You’re not boring. Even if you do end up in some second rate, my-husband-is-an-accountant housing. You could end up with a guy who likes plain oatmeal and white-bread. You could get married in a tiny chapel with your family as the only guests. Even then, you’d be interesting. Because I know you Penelope, you’re smart and ambitious and… and you have the never-ending tolerance to put up with me. So… even if your Prince Charming doesn’t find you interesting… I do. 

Penelope: Wow, that’s the nicest thing I have ever heard you say.

Sloane: Don’t push your luck. 

Penelope: And we’re back. (Penelope laughs, a little, and then stands up to leave) I’m feeling better, and I just can’t leave Phoebe to sulk all day. We should head back.

(PENELOPE gets up, and pantomimes washing her hands before leaving the bathroom. After an awkward second, and SLOANE getting up, the third bathroom door creaks open to reveal CAMILLE in the bathroom, who squeaks in surprise.)

Camille: I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I swear. 

Sloane: Well this is painfully uncomfortable. I guess I’d better be going.

Camille: if this isn’t overstepping bounds… I think it was really sweet, what you said to your friend back there. 

Sloane: Look Camille, I know we see each other like every day in math but can you pretend you never heard any of this?

Camille: Why? I think it was… nice. 

Sloane: Exactly. I’d rather not be known as “nice.” 

Camille: Well, if nice is so bad then maybe you shouldn’t dress like that. Or look like that. Or talk like that, or wrinkle your nose like a rabbit whenever you get confused in math– I’m rambling. 

Sloane: Whatever. I gotta go. 

Camille: Oh um okay. See you later then. 

(SLOANE hurries off stage, leaving Camille in the bathroom alone.)

Camille: What’s her problem?

(Lights fade off, as SLOANE moves back to the main auditorium, to see PENELOPE and PHOEBE sitting on the stage.)

Penelope: Sloane you forgot to get the next guy?

Sloane: You guys really sat here and waited for me to get back? 

Phoebe: Well I’m not talking to her obviously. 

Sloane: You’re in the same room. What happened to the Phoebe that would defend little Penelope from school bullies? 

Phoebe: She died along with Penelope’s sense of humor. 

Penelope: I tried to be the bigger person, I really did. Sloane, just let her do whatever it is that makes her feel better. 

Sloane: You guys are ridiculous. 

(SLOANE exits offstage, as both huff and puff obnoxiously. A silence ensues, and then SLOANE comes onstage, dragging DONALD behind her. DONALD wears a white dress shirt, black slacks, a tacky trombone tie, and black suspenders. SLOANE gets back on to the podium.)

Donald: Greetings, it is nice to meet you. My name is Donald. 

Penelope: ...Greetings?

Phoebe: Hello Donald, tell us why you think you’re the best option for Penelope? 

Donald: Well, as you know, our school’s band has made it to regionals this year, with I as our esteemed trombone player. 

Phoebe: What does this have to do with Penelope? You’re almost as boring as she is. A lovely match. 

Donald: I am a very devoted individual and I think that Penelope is a very close match to my ideal woman. Neither Penelope or myself are boring. Kind and pure, worthy of being my muse. 

Phoebe: Ah yes, she’s practically Snow White—

Penelope: Phoebe. 

Phoebe: Don’t let that fool you though, she’s as entitled as one too. Did you know that she loves to “emotionally connect” with other people’s boyfr—

Penelope: Phoebe! 

Phoebe: You gotta a real catch here Donald. She can’t ever do anything wrong, let alone guilty. We call her the Virgin Mary but, between you and I, she’s more of a Judas. A frumpy Judas with a chastity belt.

Donald: Should I… come back later?

Phoebe: You know what? Actually, I’ll leave. I’m clearly making you– no, everyone, uncomfortable. 

(Penelope aggressively gets up and snatches her bag.) 

Penelope: Phoebe… I’m sorry, don’t leave. You have it all wrong. 

Phoebe: Why should it matter? You treat me like speaking my mind is a crime anyway? So no thanks, I’d rather not sit here while you lecture me on how innocent you are. If you excuse me, I have plans tonight. A date. Don’t invite yourself this time.

(PHOEBE stands up, and leaves, leaving PENELOPE to rub her temples and SLOANE to look somewhat shell-shocked. Donald looks around confused before he speaks)

Donald: Should I… Go?

Sloane: Yes. please leave. 

Marnie: Actually, I think it best if all of you leave.

(Both of their heads snap to the left, to see Principal Marnie Taft. She strolls in, and both girls look at her with disdain.)

Sloane: Why? It’s after school, and nobody else is scheduled to use the gym until Friday.

Marnie: If there is a wallet on the ground is it yours to use just because the owner isn’t there?

Sloane: Um yes? Finders keepers?

Penelope: Sloane, you’re terrible. That’s such a horrible thing to do. 

Sloane: Call me what you will, I may be morally bankrupt, but at least I won’t be actually bankrupt. 

Penelope: Sloane, let’s just go.

Marnie: I’d take Penelope’s advice into consideration. 

Sloane: “Consider” my ass!

(SLOANE pulls a gatorade bottle out from underneath her desk, and chucks it at PMT. She then yells like a banshee as she books it.)

Marnie: Out of all of your friends, I think I appreciate her the least.

Penelope: I don’t remember you liking any of my friends, Mom. 

Marnie: I don’t understand you Penelope; You are such a pretty girl, you’re smart and kind. I don’t see why you choose to hang out with… people like them. 

Penelope: It’s not that hard. They’re my friends. Besides, I have my flaws too. Not like you point them out often enou—

Marnie: You are so dramatic. Stop using the gymnasium for your little games. Since you seem to have enough time to goof off, I hope your homework is done by the time I get home or you’ll be scrubbing the baseboards until they shine.

Penelope: Yes, Mother.

(The lights go out, and when they come back up, SLOANE is breathing heavy to the left, and CAMILLE is coming from the right.)

Sloane: (takes a minute to catch her breath.) Are you- *coughs* Are you following me?

Camille: Sloane, if you’re done acting out the soap opera in your head, I’ve literally lived here for two years. Since I moved here actually.

Sloane: Oh. Oh yeah. I’m sorry. 

Camille: Why are you breathing so heavy?

Sloane: I was going for a jog.

Camille: In your uniform?

Sloane: Yeah, I- (Pauses trying to look for information) What do you want, Camille?

Camille: I was going to ask you out for some coffee sometime. There’s this great place on Brenner Street that I-

Sloane: No.

Camille: Oh. I guess I should’ve prepared for that. 

Sloane: Why would I have said yes? We are very different people. I didn’t even know you liked girls. 

Camille: Well yeah. I awkwardly flirt with you for ten seconds every time I see you. That is how being a lesbian works. I think.

Sloane: No. I mean, well, you’re really… girly.

Camille: I am, in fact, a girl. Also how being a lesbian works. Am I confusing you or something?

Sloane: No, I mean you like–like makeup. And you read girly magazines, you come to class smelling like strawberries for god’s sake, and you even like One Direction-

Camille: Liked. They’re split up now, and being hygenic is a bad thing now?

Sloane: You’re missing the point. 

Camille: No, I get what you are saying. I think it’s just kind of stupid.

Sloane: Why? I’ve never been interested in girls like you because it’s just… so weird.

Camille: Why is it weird? 

Sloane: Because—because you act like some straight girl.

Camille: Wow. I’ve had a crush on you longer than you’ve been out and you’re saying I’m the straight one. There isn’t anything wrong with girly stuff. I happen to be a girl. 

Sloane: Debatable.

Camille: It’s debatable that I’m a girl?

Sloane: No. It’s debatable that there isn’t anything wrong with stuff like that, all gross and sappy and predictable. It’s not for– it’s for normal girls. 

Camille: Oh come off it Sloane. You may not be closeted anymore but that self-hatred is still there. You push away anything girly or considered for “straight girls” in some attempt to distance yourself being a lesbian. We all do it but there is no shame in finding an identity not linked to your sexuality Sloane. On the other hand, there is shame when you poke fun at someone who has. As much as you hate it, I’m just as much of a lesbian as you are. Despite how I present myself. 

Sloane: God, piss off, Camille! You’re just getting all defensive because I don’t want to go on a date with you.

Camille: If that’s what you want to tell yourself. Fine. I’ll just leave you alone then!

Sloane: Fine! Go!

(They both storm off to their prospective sides, and the right side of the stage comes up when CAMILLE and SLOANE are both offstage. The lights then come up on PHOEBE and HARRY at dinner, PHOEBE looking excited and happy, and HARRY looking considerably withdrawn.)

Phoebe: So, how did the rest of your day go?

Harry: It was ok. It was pretty much like every other day. How about you?

Phoebe: The usual. 

Harry: Did something happen? 

Phoebe: Other than Penelope being herself and bring others down with her? Not really, she just brought up some bad memories. 

Harry: Are you okay? It seems like it upset you. 

Phoebe: I don’t get upset easily. I mean, half the class calls me Easy Phoebe. 

Harry: I wasn’t going to mention that. 

Phoebe: Why not? I’m honestly surprised you asked me out, not that it’s bad, I’m really enjoying myself. But most guys don’t really ask for a date to begin with. 

Harry: Why do they even call you that to begin with?

Phoebe: It wasn’t always like this. During the summer I had a boyfriend, we were pretty serious. 

Harry: What happened then?

Phoebe: He was an ass. His name was Jacob and we met when he was working on the boardwalk. We sorta hit it off. Turns out I’m not the only girl he hit it off with. 

Harry: Damn. Do you know who?

Phoebe: Well you know Penelope right? She was, her words not mine, “in love with him.” 

Harry: Did she sleep with him? Penelope never really seemed like that type of girl. 

(PHOEBE snorts and pushes her food around her plate before pausing.)

Phoebe: Because she isn’t. Or well, she didn’t. She thinks she’s so above everyone because she’s sensitive and “saving herself.” That didn’t really change Jacob’s mind though. So he slept with me one last time before oh-so-gently telling me that he was truly in love with Penelope.

Harry: I know how you feel. 

Phoebe: Oh really?

Harry: Well, I know how it feels to have what you think you know about love pulled out from under you. To have what you thought about romance to be completely stomped on its head. 

Phoebe: What do you mean? You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I usually don’t. 

Harry: I mean, I would if I could. If I knew how to put the pieces together I wouldn’t be struggling with it so much.

Phoebe: Well, that’s completely fine by me. If this is gonna work we have to respect each others boundaries.

Harry: If… If what’s going to work?

Phoebe: This? Us? I mean… That is why you wanted to have dinner right? 

Harry: There isn’t an us–I don’t–What?

Phoebe: Why what? You asked me out! Forgive me for thinking you liked me. 

Harry: Really? You’re the girl with no strings attached, this was never meant to be anything, we agreed to have fun. 

Phoebe: Of course. It sometimes slips my mind that men don’t see me as “girlfriend” material. That’s for dear, sweet Penelope. I’m the girl you take out “for a good time.” Right Harry?

Harry: I don’t even know why I came here. I thought you were cool. 

Phoebe: Cool in what way Harry? Bullshit. You know why you came Harry, you wanted sex. Say it. Say, “I wanted sex, Phoebe.” Say what you mean. If you’re going to be just like the other asshats I hang around with, at least be honest about it. 

Harry: I-No. I won’t.

Phoebe: Why not? You obviously don’t wanna date me. Why even listen to my venting? To earn points for later? Everyone is so obsessed with the fact I went off the deep after Jacob. Well maybe I didn’t go off the deep end, maybe I just threw myself a life preserver. You don't have to worry about being left or unwanted if everything only lasts a single night. Maybe I take comfort in being wanted, desired… loved, even if it is just one night! So, I apologize for not knowing what I want, for not knowing if I can trust someone again. More importantly, I’m sorry for not picking up on what you wanted before I even agreed to this damn date. 

Harry: Stop assuming you know me.

Phoebe: I don’t need to, you’re just like the others anyway. All you want—

Harry: I don’t know what I want!

(PHOEBE stops cold. HARRY is breathing heavy, and is upset.)

Phoebe: Then why are you even here?

Harry: Because you’re Easy Phoebe. You’re the one who offers herself up if a guy has even the slightest bit of charm. And I shouldn’t have to apologize for taking you out to a nice restaurant and being honest with you. I don’t know you and you don’t me, it’s the point of this whole thing. It’s insulting that you are so self-centered that you believe everyone’s actions revolve around you! 

Phoebe: I’m always the one getting the short end of everyone else's stick! 

Harry: Not everything is about you! Sometimes people do shitty things because they are shitty people. I don’t want sex from you. I don’t even want to date you. 

Phoebe: Then what do you want Harry? To laugh at me like I’m some kind of mess?

Harry: God, there you go again, you claim to be the victim only because people don’t treat you right. Easy Phoebe always being a giant jerk and then blaming others. You push them away and distance yourself only to blame others when they leave you. 

Phoebe: Don’t think you know everything about me. 

Harry: Didn’t you just say you didn’t need to know me to know my intentions? Or is this another “Phoebe is the victim because she is sad” sort of deal? 

Phoebe: How dare you just—

Harry: Instead of asking yourself why Penelope looks down on you, why your boyfriend left you, and why I don’t want to date you… Instead ask yourself why he was looking for a girl to replace you, or why your best friend was so willing to ignore your feelings just because you act you don't care. Or maybe, ask the big winner question. Why am I leaving you right now? Enjoy your dinner Phoebe, alone, which I guess, is how you like it. 

(He drops cash on the table, and then leaves. PHOEBE sits there for a second silently, then starts to cry. It starts soft, tears sliding down her face, and twiddling her fingers and makes an effort to look composed but then turns to ugly, broken sobbing. She shakes as she draws cash out of her purse, and leaves it on the table, shakedly, and heads out of the restaurant. The lights turn off, and then fade up onto PENELOPE and BILL conversating.)

Penelope: Hey Bill. 

(Penelope plops down onto the bench next to him.)

Bill: Hey Penelope. I heard about your… competition. How’d the first day go?

Penelope: God that’s embarrassing. It was a huge flop. It seemed promising at first though, if I’m honest. 

Bill: Oh really?

Penelope: Okay so think that you’re in the grocery store, buying groceries, and then you see what you’re looking for, go to grab it and then..

Bill: And then?

Penelope: Then everything catches on fire. And you die. 

Bill: That bad?

Penelope: I had a guy prepare six resumes with potential date ideas. 

Bill: That’s sorta cute though?

Penelope: One of them probably involved us Naruto running in the park together. 

Bill: Does he take constructive criticism? In any format?

Penelope: Considering the fact he prefers to go by “Nostradamus,” probably not. 

Bill: You always have tomorrow. Maybe some better guys will show up. 

Penelope: Nope. My mom shut it down as soon as she realized what was up. We could try it in secret but she’s too smart for that.

Bill: Mrs. Taft has always been scary, I doubt anyone would show up. Besides, what boy would want a date with the principal's daughter? 

Penelope: What’s that supposed to mean? 

Bill: Well, you’re you. You have really high expectations Penelope. 

Penelope: I do not! 

Bill: Penelope, you once colored coded your notebooks by the emotion you associate with the class. If I’m being honest, I’m sorta of glad the whole thing got cancelled anyway. 

Penelope: Why? (Penelope leans towards Bill, looking teasing/hopeful.) Any reason behind it? 

Bill: If you’re insinuating that I have a crush on you, the answer is no. Especially not after that time in 6th grade when you told everyone that I was a furry. 

Penelope: That was a PURE misunderstanding. Why are you so rude?

Bill: You know when they say “find something you’re good at and stick with it?” I prefer to think I am very good at getting revenge for being known as a furry most of my teen life.

Penelope: Very funny. But seriously, why don’t you wanna date me? Is it because I don’t… y’know?

Bill: Penelope, that’s ridiculous. There are plenty of nice guys who don’t want sex from a relationship. 

Penelope: Then why don’t you want to date me then?

Bill: I just got cheated on, and frankly, you have a reputation. 

Penelope: As a cheater?

Bill: Penelope, it’s not a secret that you were canoodling with Phoebe’s ex-boyfriend while they were dating.

Penelope: I was not canoodling! We never slept together, we didn’t even date. 

Bill: That doesn’t matter. Did you or did you not exchange romantic texts with Jacob while he was dating Phoebe?

Penelope: Well, no—maybe, okay yes. I never slept with him or kissed him though. We just… connected. We would stay up and talk, about our opinions of love, what we look for in partners—sometimes he would talk about wanting to date me instead of Phoebe. 

(Bill looks at Penelope, bewildered and surprised.) 

Bill: How is that any different? 

Penelope: We may have flirted but I never acted on it. 

Bill: Okay. So let's say that owning a flamethrower is illegal. Now let’s say you own a flamethrower anyway. So, you own a flamethrower BUT you’ve never burned or killed anyone with it. Does that happen to suddenly make it legal? 

Penelope: Okay you’re comparing me flirting with my friend’s boyfriend to murder. A little bit of a jump there. 

Bill: If you’ve ever seen Game of Thrones, I don’t think it’s much of a jump. 

Penelope: Okay but what makes what I did so bad? He genuinely cared about me and was unhappy in his relationship. Phoebe acted like she didn’t even care. She was using him and… he liked me because I cared. 

Bill: How would you know Phoebe didn’t care? 

Penelope: Because Phoebe uses dry shampoo more than actual shampoo. She doesn’t care about anything, let alone her relationships. He felt neglected and I was there, I was just being a good person.

Bill: I think it’s wrong, Penelope. For someone who considers herself fair, it’s pretty terrible, what you did. Just because you didn’t sleep with him doesn't make you better than any other cheater out there. 

Penelope: It’s not fair for Phoebe to blame me though! He reached out to me. I didn’t flirt with him to begin with. 

Bill: You’re the one who was Phoebe’s friend though. She’s clearly hurt by it and you choose to ignore it because you refuse to admit you did something wrong. 

Penelope: I—

Bill: You asked me why I wouldn’t date you right? It’s because you do no wrong Penelope. You never admit your mistakes and it hurts everyone around you in end. In all the time I’ve known both you and Phoebe, you guys have been attached at the hip. A dumb fight over boys shouldn't end that. Maybe it’s time you start swallowing your pride. 

(Just as PENELOPE begins to formulate a response, her phone rings. BILL looks on curiously, unfamiliar with the concept of privacy.)

Penelope: Hey. Phoebe... Uhh, not really?- 

(BILL nods his head at PENELOPE, who threatens violence.)

Penelope: No, I’m not... Are you okay?- Okay.- Yeah, I’m coming… I’ll be there soon.

Bill: What’s going on?

Penelope: I think- I’m going to swallow my pride.

(The lights fade out, as PENELOPE walks offstage. The lights come back up on the other side of the stage, with CAMILLE standing at her bus stop. SLOANE approaches, with caution. SLOANE is awkwardly quiet before awkwardly blurting out her first line of the scene to a seemingly irritated CAMILLE.)

Sloane: This is all your fault. 

Camille: Oh really? And how is that?

Sloane: Because then I would be the one to blame. And that can’t be right. 

Camille: Are you serious? 

Sloane: ...No. Joking just helps me cope with the fact I hurt someone’s feelings. I’m not good at being the serious one. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry Camille. 

Camille: Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?

Sloane: Honestly? I thought about it and I think I get it, at least a little. It was a little hard to understand because girly girls aren't usually lesbians. It's not something I am used to though. I just don’t get why you insisted that I be girly to “subvert” what a lesbian is. 

Camille: That's not it at all! I’m angry because you demean stuff that's feminine because it's not “traditionally lesbian.” You don't have to personally be girlish, but don't make me feel bad for it? You demeaned me and my feelings like I never went through the same things as you. All the internalized hate and the identity crisis, I felt it too. 

Sloane: Well, that's hard for me to understand. 

Camille: How is that possibly hard to understand?

Sloane: Because when I was a kid I did try to retain my femininity. I just have a hard time imagining that someone who went through the same things I did, came out the other side with such confidence in herself. Being girlish did make me feel less of lesbian. I held onto for so long, like a defense mechanism. And I still remember how freeing it was to finally abandon what made me feel chained down to my old self, the one everyone around expected me to be. 

Camille: Oh.

Sloane: It's not that I think you're less of a lesbian. It’s just… how do you deal with everyone assuming that you’re not actually gay? That it’s a phase? 

Camille: If I’m being honest, I haven’t. People still assume I’m bisexual or that I’ll be set straight by the right man. “You’re too pretty to be gay, Camille.” It’s not something that I powered through and everything is okay. I think that’s the difference between us. When you were young, you felt like the feminity, the sexuality, that it was set on you. And that’s okay. But I’ve… I’ve always just been me, despite what I identified with. 

Sloane: I think I’m guilty of doing what other people did to me when I was younger. I’m sorry I doubted you like that Camille. 

Camille: Well… I mean if that is something that still makes you uncomfortable, just ignore the fact I asked you out. Simple as that really, it’s okay. 

Sloane: Actually, I wanted to know if you were still up for coffee?

Camille: Oh.

Sloane: It is totally fine if I’m a total idiot and waited too long. Or that you can’t forgive me–

Camille: Sloane, I literally said I had a crush on you for a whole year and a half. A misunderstanding isn't gonna kill the mood. 

Sloane: You’re right. That was super humiliating. For you I mean.

Camille: On second thought, this still doesn’t make you any less of an idiot. 

(SLOANE blushes, if possible, and then they walk offstage. The lights come back up as PENELOPE pantomimes knocking on the door, and then stepping into PHOEBE’s house. PHOEBE is laying on her bed, her hair a mess, in a crusty looking nightgown, and her eyes red from crying. PENELOPE stifles a laugh. )

Phoebe: Don't do your… Penelope thing. I already know I look pitiful. 

Penelope: You do look pretty pitiful.

Phoebe: I asked you to come over because I needed a friend, not someone to kick me while I’m down. 

Penelope: Sorry, sorry. What’s going on? I haven’t seen you cry since second grade. 

Phoebe: (She is crying again.) I’m a mess Penny. I haven’t felt right since this summer. And at first I thought it was Jacob but now I don’t know. I tried to be a cool girl, to be fun, and it’s not working. Jacob left me and so did you. Why doesn’t anyone ever stay?

(PENELOPE has started crying too, and she is stroking PHOEBE’s hair as she cradles her head.)

Phoebe: I’ve been so mean lately. I know it’s not your fault what happened. It just makes me feel so empty. Because he liked you more than he ever liked me, God, everyone likes you and Sloane more than they like me! I know I never really do relationships but it felt special Penny. I didn’t feel so isolated anymore, not know as “Penelope’s friend.” I thought I could have a great boyfriend and friends but it turns out that I lost them both. It's not your fault. I’m sorry I push everyone away. 

Penelope: No, it is my fault. He was your boyfriend, and he did like you, and I shouldn’t have bought into the things he told me, I should have just told you that he was hitting on other girls and I didn’t. I guess he made me feel like a normal girl rather than the weird principal’s control freak daughter.

Phoebe: It still wouldn’t have happened if I had given him what he wanted. 

Penelope: Bullshit. You are amazing Phoebe. You are most protective and extroverted girl I’ve ever met. You have a hideous laugh that seems like an imitation of an ugly donkey, you’re one of the most gorgeous girls in our year, and despite the fact you try to hide it, everyone knows that you love comics and cosplaying. 

Phoebe: (Phoebe sniffles wetly and laughs.) You promised to never mention that again. 

Penelope: This is what friends are for… Wonder Woman. 

(Phoebe hits Penelope with a pillow, who snorts and chucks it back.) 

Penelope: Besides, I don’t think any of us need Jacob in our lives. Jacobs are manipulative man babies. I mean, there’s gotta be a reason Taylor Lautner hasn’t been in a real movie since. 

(Phoebe cringes at the joke before they both start laughing, before it dies down into a pause. Penelope bumps shoulders with Phoebe.)

Penelope: Besides, you have me! And Sloane! Whether you want us or not. And if you truly need a man to feel complete then the dream prince Egbert is always available.

Phoebe: You are my best friend but that is possibly the worst advice you’ve ever given me. 

Penelope: I love you too Phoebe.

Phoebe: Where did you hear “I love you” at any point in that sentence? 

Penelope: Somewhere between “best friend” and “worst advice you’ve ever given me.” 

Phoebe: (Dryly.) How charming. How could I ever stay away from you so long? 

Penelope: Say it. 

Phoebe: I refuse. 

Penelope: Say it. 

Phoebe: Please don’t make me do this. 

Penelope: What would Wonder Woman do? 

Phoebe: Don’t use her name in vain. 

Penelope: Okay well what would Wonder Woman hypothetically do if I threatened to tell the whole school her secret identity? 

Phoebe: You wouldn’t…

Penelope: Would I? 

Phoebe: Okay well, hypothetically, I suppose in that situation I would say… that I love you too.

Penelope: Does this mean I win by technicality?

(The lights fade out, as there is a brief interlude, for the next scene. The lights come up on the SLOANE, CAMILLE, PHOEBE, and PENELOPE all outside of the school)

Penelope: So.. Who won?

Phoebe: Who won what?

Penelope: The competition. I think I won.

Phoebe: We didn’t even see the guy you picked. I say it’s an automatic loss. 

Penelope: Excuse me? You brought Edgar. That counts as negative points. 

Sloane: There was a point system?

Phoebe: I don’t remember that. Penelope is making excuses because she knows she lost. 

Sloane: I don’t care. Everyone is a loser except me. 

Camille: Wow. 

Sloane: And my beautiful, lovely, gorgeous– did I say beautiful?–elegant girlfriend. 

Penelope: Nice save. (Looks pointedly at Camille.) Good luck with her. 

Camille: I think I’ll be fine. (Camille bumps Sloane’s shoulder playfully.) 

Phoebe: (Phoebe puts Sloane and Penelope into a violent but affectionate chokehold.) I think we’ll ALL be fine. 

Penelope: Way to ruin a sweet moment. 

Sloane: Hm. That felt more passively-insulting than sweet. (Camille pats Sloane’s shoulder.)

Camille: There, there. 

Phoebe: Look at that, you hurt its feelings. 

Sloane: Its?

Phoebe: That’s not important. What’s important is that we egg Penelope’s house. Chicken soup for the soul, and all that hot shit. 

Penelope: Please no. 

 

(THE END)


End file.
